


Noodles Don't Work Well As Penis Innuendo

by buttmaster



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 12:07:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2228439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttmaster/pseuds/buttmaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>HSWC Bonus Round 1 fill:</p>
<p>"Bro♥John</p>
<p>Remember when Bro and John starred in a cheesy delivery-guy porn movie full of terrible dialogue?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Noodles Don't Work Well As Penis Innuendo

"Uh, are you sure about this?" Broderick Strider, nickname Dirk, stagename Dick, was staring at his script.

"Yes, I am fucking sure. What could possibly be the problem? Are you going to tell me that delivery boy porn isn't a goddamn staple of the industry? Are you going to say I'm not an expert? That I haven't studied this topic for years?"

John Egbert, stage name Billy Bedgood, a weird tribute to Nick Chinlund's Con Air role of Billy Bedlam, tightened the belt on his short blue bathrobe and sighed. "No one is doubting that you've looked at mountains of porn. I think what Dirk is saying is just that maybe you are missing some subtle nuances?"

"I don't want to hear about subtle nuances from the guy who took a porn name from the put the bunny back in the box guy, okay, John? Don't start with me!"

"It's a good name, first of all, and second of all, fine. Let's get this ship sailing. All aboard the porn Titanic, I guess."

"Hey! Hey! I saw Titanic, John! I saw human Titanic! I know how it ends, and no one is going to die, unless you run your shit-spewing shitmouth again, okay? Now, get in positions. Places, everyone, we're rolling!"

John sighed and sat on the couch, positioned in such a way that the robe rode up enough to see his smooth thighs, but right before the so-called goods would be on display. He was boredly pretending to flip through channels with a remote that was aimed at a television set that was only there in everyone's imagination... when there was a knock on the door.

"Oh, good, that must be lunch. It's a good thing, too. Because I'm... feeling really hungry." John went and opened the door.

Dirk stood on the other side. He was attractive, a little bit older, and not very discriminatory on what he stuck his dick into on camera. Those three things together made him a godsend in the porn world, really. He moved DVDs, and he moved website memberships. He stood there holding a heavy brown paper bag, with his trademark sunglasses and his hair done like always, with just the right amount of stubble.

"I have your order from Oriental Palace. It is a... big order." Dirk cast a withering look over at the director, who looked somewhere between pleased as punch and concentrating hard enough to light everyone present on fire with mindpowers, if he had any sort of pyrokinesis, which it was a safe bet he did not.

"Oh, good. I can't wait to dig in. I'm... really hungry." This was awful. John knew it was awful. Dirk knew it was awful. The cameraman knew it was awful. The director, though, had no idea.

"Cut! Okay, I want to set up the next shot."

"This isn't going to work. There's a reason they're always delivering a pizza. Or a package." Dirk sighed, rubbing his temples.

"Yes, idiot! I know that! I know there's a reason! It's because they lack vision! They aren't innovative! Who's the leader here? Is it you? Is it you, Dick?"

"No."

"What about you, John? Are you running the show? Do you know better than I do?"

"I'm not running things, but... I mean, I've taken my fair share of delivery man cock to know that I definitely know better than you."

"Oh, yeah? Do you want to sit in the director seat then? I'll put on the fucking robe and get it up the ass and you can tell me just how to do it then?"

"Sure?"

"We're not doing that, John! Now, get ready for the next shot."

The camera guy moved a few feet and shot the director a thumbs up while Dirk and John took a breath and got back into character. What little character there was.

"Oh no. I don't have my money on me!"

Dirk put on his best vaguely surprised face and frowned. "Oh, well, do you need to grab some cash from the other room? I can wait."

"I would... but... I'm just soooo hungry and the other room is so far. Maybe we can work out an... alternate payment method?" He loosened his robe slightly and the camera would pick up a hint of testicle.

"Oh, yeah?" Dirk smirked and raised a brow. "Did you have something... in mind?"

"Oh, I bet being a delivery driver is so stressful. Maybe I can help you relieve a little... of that stress?" John practically purred, easing his robe down over his smooth, bare shoulders, showing off his hairless back.

"Oh, uh, I don't know. We have this thing, where if your food doesn't come in 30 minutes, it's free."

"Oh, don't worry. It won't take 30 minutes for me to get you to come." John muttered a 'really?' under his breath and grinned, sitting down on the couch, his bathrobe practically hanging off of him.

"Cut! Camera, couch scene!" The director jabbed a finger, directing things with it, entirely enthusiastic about what was clearly disastrous trash.

"This is a disaster."

"This is trash." Both of the stars expressed their disdain.

"No, no more complaining. Dick out, Dirk. Put the dick in the bag." Again with the finger jabbing.

"The bag is soggy."

"How is the bag soggy?"

"Probably the same reason my hand is greasy. Because you cut a hole in the bag and also a food container and I have been trying hard to not let... something, fall out all over the floor."

"I don't care! You're making it work. They do it in all the other films, okay, asslick?"

"Yes. Because pizza doesn't do this."

"Shut up about the pizza, we're not doing pizza! Pizza is pedestrian garbage and I am a romance expert and pizza isn't romantic!"

John piped up. "Italian food is pretty romantic. Did you see Lady and the Tramp? So romantic."

"They were dogs, John! If I wanted to film a couple dogs humping in an alleyway, maybe I'd use Italian food. But this is a people film for people and people are tired of pizza."

"I used to run several porn sites? Including a fetish camsite?" Dirk was rubbing one temple now, because of the grease all over his other hand. "People aren't tired of pizza. Okay? No one is ever. Tired of pizza."

"I'm tired of pizza! Now, dick in the bag."

Dirk rolled his eyes and John snickered. There was a countdown and cameras were rolling. The older male winced as a small pile of wet noodles squelched out onto the crotch of his jeans and John burst out laughing. The countdown was over. Dirk hurriedly unzipped and pulled out his thick shaft, pushing it into the floppy folds of the grease-saturated paper bag, pushing up into the container of what he now knew was lo mein. More specifically, shrimp lo mein. "Shit. My dick's going to smell like shrimp now. Jesus."

"Three. Two." The director pointed. Rolling.

"So, hey." John purred, scooting over a little closer, nibbling a bit at his lower lip. "What did I order again?"

"Mmm, well, looks like I got an extra large eggroll with extra duck sauce."

"Ooh, I think I wanna--"

"Cut! Cut!"

Dirk growled in frustration. "What now? What did I possibly do wrong now?"

"Duck sauce? What the hell is duck sauce? Where in the everloving shit did you get duck sauce from, Broderick? It's dick sauce!"

"What the hell is dick sauce?"

"The sauce you dip eggrolls in! Why do you think I picked Chinese food? It's all centered on this dick sauce joke!"

"It's called duck sauce."

"What?"

John piped in. "Definitely duck sauce."

"You're morons. You are incapable of reading comprehension. The script says dick sauce, and it says dick sauce because the fucking sauce is called--"

Dirk opened the bag, crammed his hand in, and grabbed a little packet, flinging it at the director's feet. He bent down and picked it up.

"Son of a bugfucking asshole shitlord cockbus, god damn it! Make it hot mustard."

"What?"

"Change the line to hot mustard. Extra hot mustard."

John cringed. "That's terri--"

Dirk stopped him. "Dude, just do it. Have you ever had your dick crammed into a container of cold, shrimpy noodles? I just... we need to get this over with. Please."

"Fine. Hot mustard."

The director slapped himself in the face and just kind of... dragged his hand downward. "Fucking... go. Roll it. Go."

"Mmm well looks like I got an extra large eggroll with extra hot mustard here." Dirk droned the line out like he was reciting the specials list for the 80th time at a dinner shift at Olive Garden.

"Ooh, that sounds delicious. I think I'm gonna start with that." John opened the bag, tearing it down the side to expose the white container inside, sauce packets spilling out everywhere, all over the floor, joining the noodles that had fallen off Dirk's jeans. The camera came in close, doing an overhead shot, as John opened the container... grabbing his chopsticks and moving inward, the wooden utensils gripping the shaft and pulling it upward. John grinned.

Dirk looked terrified. He'd seen that grin before. John was about to ruin everything. If he hadn't been wearing his shades, John would see those pleading eyes.

"I hope you remembered my puu puu platter."

"Fucking cut!"


End file.
